


The Telvanni Girl

by Zalphon



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls I: Arena, Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls: Legends
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalphon/pseuds/Zalphon
Summary: The Telvanni Girl is Nilas Arobar's story of self-discovery and search for identity.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	1. Act I, Part I: Becoming Redoran

**Act I, Part I: Becoming Redoran**

_By Nilas Arobar, Son of Councilor Arobar_

I have awaited this day as long as I can remember and I find my hands shaking with anticipation for when I’ll hear the knock on the door that tells me the time has finally come. Today is the perhaps the single most important day of my life: It is the day I become Redoran. Few truly understand the gravity of such a thing, but my whole life I have been taught what it means. It means to live a life of sacrifice and servitude; it means to love the Three, one’s house, and one’s people more than you could ever love yourself. It means becoming a part of something greater than any words can hope to describe and I have been granted the honor—no, the privilege—of being allowed the opportunity to undergo the Redoran Trials and to earn my place within the House.

I haven’t the faintest of clues what they will entail, but I know that I will go in a boy—a child—and I will emerge a man. No, I’ll be something greater than a man; I’ll be a Redoran! Still, I must approach the Trials with gravity, as is the Redoran way. I must be stoic in the face of danger and deliberate in both my words and my actions, lest I allow myself to be weak—to be soft. I must never be those things though, for I am destined to be Redoran and a Redoran who is either such thing dishonors not only himself but all Redorans and I will do no such thing. Still. I can’t help but feel my heart flutter a little bit with joy at knowing this day has finally come after having waited so long; I only wish Mother could be here to witness me become Redoran, but I know that she watches from beyond the grave and she smiles down upon me for I am becoming everything I was always meant to be. 

I hear footsteps. This is it. It’s finally happening!

* * *

I was mistaken. It was not my soon-to-be brothers coming to lead me to the Trials, but my dear sister, Gandosa. She’s concerned—worried even, but she doesn’t understand that this isn’t just something I can forego; it’s who I am. It’s been my duty since I was born to become truly Redoran and not merely Redoran by blood, but how could she understand? Father has never had the same expectations of her as he has of me, but that’s because she has always had a different role to play for the good of the House. I was born to bring honor upon the House and upon my father and she was born to be wed to Serjo Avon Oran to ensure that once he passed, control of Suran would fall back into her hands and thus back into the hands of the House. 

I can’t help but pity her though. Her entire life was spent being groomed to fulfill a very specific purpose for the good of not only our family, but the House, and she failed. She failed to win the affections of Serjo Oran and ever since, she’s fallen out of favor with Father. I can’t imagine the shame she must feel over having failed to fulfill her destiny, but that doesn’t change that I still love her. She’s always been my sweet older sister and has always been the one to intervene when Father’s discipline got—too severe—even when it meant she would share in it with me. She always made sure that I would be okay. She always made sure. 

I will miss her dearly after the Trials when I am away for long periods of time in service to the House. 

I will miss how she used to always tell me stories when we were little.

I will miss how she used to always kiss my forehead after Father finished disciplining me and tell me that everything would be alright, even if it wasn’t alright right now.

I will miss a lot about her, but I guess the thing I’ll miss the most is how she’s always been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother despite only being a few years older than me. Mother died when I was born and ever since, Gandosa has always—taken care of me. Father was always too busy in service to the House and though the servants tended to my needs, they didn’t care like she did. She was always just—there for me.

I will miss her a lot, but I have to remember something: A Redoran’s life is sacrifice. A Redoran sacrifices, because it his duty and because he loves his people more than he loves himself. I will miss you, Gandosa. I will miss you more than all the stars in the sky and the moons too, but a Redoran’s life is sacrifice and my destiny awaits and I shan’t keep it waiting any longer.

I love you, Gandosa. 

I hope you never forget that, no matter how far my service to the House takes me, I hope you know I’ll never forget my big sister who banished the monsters from under my bed and always believed in me, no matter how much I messed up and how bull-headed I always was. When all is said and done, I’ll come back for you. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I’ll come back for you, Gandosa, and that’s on my honor and a Redoran never breaks his honor.

_-Nilas Arobar, Redoran Aspirant_


	2. Act I, Part II: Remembrance

**Act I, Part II: Remembrance**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Councilor Arobar_

I’m glad that Nilas is oblivious to most everything in the world or he probably would’ve noticed I was on the brink of tears as our conversation came to a close. He’s grown up so much since we were just children scurrying about the many corridors and rooms of the Manor and through the streets of Ald’ruhn Under-Skar and to think he is about to go through the Trials—it makes my heart hurt. Certainly, he’s grown into a truly respectable man and he really has become everything he’s always set off to be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared. No, scared isn’t the right word. I’m wrought with dread. He’s so excited, but he doesn’t know what the Trials entail and neither do I, but I remember seeing Volene limp back into Ald’ruhn—her armor destroyed, her weapon absent, her body covered in wounds, and she couldn’t even really speak for days after she made it back. Whatever happened to her—it broke her. It destroyed her. She wasn’t the girl I had known since we were children, she was irreparably damaged in every way and that’s why she eventually fell into the care of the Temple’s Sanitarium in Molag Mar and as much as it hurt me to see Volene like that, I couldn’t bear to see the same happen to Nilas—I just couldn’t. He’s my little brother—he’s the one I used to tuck in at night and the one who I’d sneak potions to following Father’s rampages. I love him and to think that what happened to Volene could happen to him—I just can’t bear the thought; it’s just too much.

He didn’t really know Volene, nobody in my family did, because she was my little secret. Father would have never approved of me being friends with the “common rabble” because despite as much as he talks about how a Redoran sacrifices for his people, he looks down on those same people. He scoffs at the pauper in the street and mocks the pleas of those going through hard times asking for a break on the taxes levied by the House. That is why he never met Volene. Well, one of the reasons why anyways. 

Volene and I met ten or so years ago during the All Saints’ Day Festival and I often wonder if it was an act of Lady Azura herself that we met, because every time I think about it, it doesn’t make sense. So many things had to play out just right for us to meet. I’m grateful though. Volene was the one person I didn’t have to put on an act around; I didn’t have to be the prim and proper daughter like I did for Father and I didn’t have to parent her like I did with Nilas, no, I was allowed to just be—me—and I think that’s why I spent so much time sneaking around with her. She was the kind of person who could always make me laugh, sometimes so hard that mazte would come out of my nose, and then she’d tease me about how “That’s not very ladylike at all, Muthsera.” I’d always tell her to quiet down, but she’d give me that crooked smirk of hers and just giggle.

I suppose that’s why I’m so afraid of Nilas going through the Redoran Trials. Volene never had any interest in being Redoran before she met me and she only was willing to because then we wouldn’t have to sneak around and we could publicly be friends. I tried to tell her it didn’t matter though, because, even if she was Redoran—what we had—they’d never understand anyways. She could one day become Archmaster and it wouldn’t matter, because we’d still have to keep certain things secret and I was still likely to be wed off to Serjo Oran in Suran, but she was always so headstrong—like Nilas. She just put a finger to my lips before she said, “As they always say, a Redoran’s life is sacrifice and there is no sacrifice too great for the woman I love.” But she didn’t know what she was talking about. She should’ve never gone through with it, but she was so damned impatient. I told her, I have to take care of Nilas and once he’s grown, we can run away together to anywhere she wants and we can start a new life together with all the secrecy and all the lies, but she didn’t want to wait. She couldn’t stand the thought of hiding in the shadows anymore and she was willing to give her life to the House so that we could be honest about what we had; I just wish she would’ve had patience. Everything would be so much different if she would’ve just listened to me and that’s why I’m so scared for Nilas.

Before she left for those godforsaken trials, Volene was so cocky and confident all the time. She had this aura of bravado about her that made me putty in her hands, but it was counterbalanced by her poet’s heart and sense of romanticism and I miss that about her. She was so—special—in so many ways and the Trials destroyed her. The girl who left for those trial left with that signature crooked smirk as she planned to take on the world all by herself just like she always had done and the one who came back—it wasn’t Volene, not the one I knew anyways. She was a husk of her old self. She didn’t talk to me about what things would be like one day when we were finally open about our relationship or how we’d eventually have a cozy little farm in the Ascadian Isles growing saltrice and marshmerrow, nope, that Volene was gone. She didn’t talk much at all after she got back and the things she did say, they were dark and cynical as though she had simply lost the will to go on. She ate little. Drank little. Slept even less than that and often her sleep would be filled with terrified screams and cold sweat that would drench the pillow and blankets alike. Whatever happened in those trials killed the girl I was going to run away with one day and I can’t lose anyone else to them, not like I did her, especially not Nilas. He never really knew Volene, but if he did, then maybe he wouldn’t be so eager to undergo these Trials, but—it doesn’t matter. He’s probably already been taken to the Trials and there’s nothing I can do about it except pray that the Three watch over him. I can’t bear to lose my little brother too. I just can’t. 

I love you, little brother, and I hope you know that as you go through the Trials. You are stronger than you know and you are the bravest man I’ve ever met and I hope that whatever happens, you know that you are more of a Redoran with or without the Trials than most can ever hope to be. May the Three watch over you and guide you through these harrowing times.

_-Gandosa Arobar, Redoran Noblewoman_


	3. Act I, Part III: Protecting the Family Name

**Act I, Part III: Protecting the Family Name**

_By Councilor Arobar, Father of Nilas and Gandosa_

I have spent decades in service to my house and to my people and to hear that Athyn has moved against me and sponsored my son to have the privilege of undergoing the Trials, I am infuriated. How dare Nilas seek sponsorship from someone else without first coming to me and how dare Athyn provide it for him. Athyn knows my feelings towards Nilas. He knows that Nilas is nothing but a mark of shame upon my name and he goes so far as to cast light upon it? I could kill him for it and the temptation is there. He would stand no chance against me in a duel and to decline would be a great dishonor, especially for one of his station, but still—that would raise questions amongst others in the House as to why I challenged him, especially after he sponsored my own son. No. I can’t kill him, but he should thank the Three that unlike him, I am not a coward who moves against my political rivals in such a way. No, I will have to handle this matter in a different way.

Nilas will have to die in the Trials; it’s the only way that I can be spared the great shame he would bring upon my name if he were allowed to become Redoran. The very idea of the pathetic little worm being welcomed into my house as more than just a mistake I made all those years ago—I couldn’t bear it. He would dishonor everything the House stands for and everything it is and I will not allow him to bring shame upon it as he has on me time and time again. Certainly, he will survive the Trials if I don’t intervene—he’s trained for years for this and if I don’t think of something then he will become Redoran which is something I can not allow; I refuse. But how will I get him killed without it coming back to me? How? If only I had more time I could plan this out better, but it seems that Nilas has once again put me into a situation where I’m scrambling to save our family and our house from the dishonor he is trying so fervently bring upon it. It doesn’t matter though; I will think of something as I always have, just as I did when Gandosa thought she could hide that whore from me. 

Perhaps I should reach out to those cultists again; they proved useful last time when they dealt with Gandosa’s “friend” and perhaps they can again with the matter of Nilas, although this time, they need to actually finish the job. Certainly, they broke that girl and the problem resolved itself as a result, but I need Nilas dead. For too long has been a thorn in my side and for too long has he pissed on everything I’ve spent my whole life working towards and this is finally my chance to be free of him. I need to leave immediately if I am to reach Ramimilk in time for them to reach him, but for the sin of dealing with the Third Corner, I must first beg forgiveness from the Three. 

ALMSIVI, forgive me for once again violating Temple Law by conspiring with agents of the Third Corner, but know that I do so out of love for my house and my people. I seek them out not because I wish to deliver myself unto the Lord of Domination, but because I wish to spare my house the shame that my son will bring upon it if he is allowed to become truly Redoran, just as I did before to spare it from the shame the Whore would bring upon it. I swear on my honor, everything I do is for the good of my house and my people, even if it does seem as though I am wavering—it is done in your name and for your people.

Blessed be the Three and blessed be my house.

_-Miner Arobar, Councilor of House Redoran_


	4. Act I, Part IV: Marandus

**Act I, Part IV: Marandus**

_By Nilas Arobar, Son of Miner Arobar_

It’s only been two days since we left Ald’ruhn on the journey out to Marandus, but it feels like so much longer as the anticipation courses through my veins! I can’t help but be excited even though the Master of Trials says that the Trials are a harrowing experience that can break even the greatest of men, but I know that I won’t be broken by them. This is my destiny! How could I possibly be defeated by them when everything in my life has been building up to this point? But perhaps he’s right and that I shouldn’t be so eager, for after all, a Redoran maintains a sense of gravity in all things and is deliberate in all actions, but I can’t help the excitement—for the first time in my life, my father is going to be proud of me when I return from them and the Master of Trials returns and hears from the Underpriest that I did it—that I earned my place in the House as a true Redoran! He’ll finally tell me that I’ve earned his respect and my place in the House—the Three only know how much I look forward to that moment. It’s all I’ve really ever wanted. I’ve always just wanted him to, for once, tell me he’s proud of me, and he finally will be when I come home having earned my place in the House.

I have to remember to that I need to thank Uncle Athyn at my initiation ceremony, because this wouldn’t be possible without him. My father would’ve never sponsored me and I know because I asked him about it once. He told me I’d fail and prove not only to him or myself, but to the entire house that I wasn’t fit to bear our crest. He doesn’t get it though. It’s not about having the respect of my peers or anything like that—it’s about doing something more with my life. I mean, look at Gandosa, she could’ve probably talked Serjo Oran into marrying her despite his doubts, but she didn’t. She could just loiter about the Manor all day now that she’s failed to live up to Father’s expectations of her, but no, she’s always out doing something to help our people. She organizes food drives, she spends time teaching the poor, she just—does things—not because she has to, but because she wants to, because she cares and that’s why I want to be Redoran. It’s not just about Father finally looking at me and realizing I’m not a complete imbecile; it’s also about giving something back to my people. Father doesn’t get that though. I Tmean, I’ve heard the stories of before Gandosa and I were born about how he used to be a great warrior and how he fought at the Battle of Tel Uvirith, but now, he just seems so concerned with his reputation and his standing in the community—he just doesn’t get it. I get why he cares about the respect of his people, but sometimes I think that’s all he cares about. I just wish he realized that I’m not the failure that he thinks I am—I have so much to offer and I just hope he realizes that someday and I hope this is what makes him realize it.

I should focus though; we’re only a day’s walk from Marandus and the Master of Trials tells me that when we get there, he will leave me and only return for the Underpriest’s report on my performance if I survive. I just wish I knew what to expect. I’ve heard the story of Marandus a thousand times just as everyone who grows up in Redoran territory has. It was a Redoran stronghold that was overrun by the Dwemer and their constructs and it was there that the ancient warriors fought to the death to hold off the Dwemer invaders from taking the stronghold, because Lord Nerevar had told them that he would return to use it as a staging ground for a major offensive against Galom Daeus. Though they lost control of the stronghold, when Lord Nerevar returned with his full army, they avenged their fallen comrades and it is said that to this day, the Ancient Redorans stand watch over Marandus in death as they did in life. 

A part of me is anxious to walk amongst the spirits of some of the greatest men and women to ever live, but I know that I will prove myself to them and that I will earn my place within their house. As they sacrificed for our people thousands of years ago, I too will sacrifice for our people, for a Redoran’s life is sacrifice and I will be Redoran, for it is my destiny and who am I to spit in the eye of Lady Azura? 

May I walk with the blessings of ALMSIVI as I undergo the Trials and may the Ancient Redorans who sacrificed everything for their honor recognize me as a kindred spirit.

_-Nilas Arobar, Redoran Aspirant_


	5. Act I, Part V: The Plight of the Ald’ruhn Egg Miners’ Union

**Act I, Part V: The Plight of the Ald’ruhn Egg Miners’ Union**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar_

Everyday, the lines at St. Rilms’ Kitchen grow longer as we sink deeper into what my father once called the worst economic depression in recent history. He blames the Hlaalu for moving their supply chains from locally-sourced products to imported Imperial wares and it’s understandable. It wasn’t so long ago when people pitied those who went to St. Rilms’ as being simply down on their luck, but now, it’s become almost a way of life for some people. As the need for locally-made goods declines due to the Hlaalu importing goods from the Empire and reselling them to locals, we watch as our people’s livelihoods slowly fade away. People who were once renowned across both Vvardenfell and the Mainland for their craftsmanship are being forced to find work as common laborers and one such example of this is an old friend of Volene’s who I came to take a liking to as well, Dravyn.

I had never met Dravyn before I knew Volene, but I had heard of him and had on more than one occasion purchased his products even if I had never personally met him. He was a jeweler who specialized in bonemold jewelry adorned with gemstones made from cremation ashes and I remember that throughout my childhood and adolescence, his work was considered the peak of class and sophistication. Simply put, every noblewoman in Morrowind was wearing something he had either personally made or was knocked off of one of his designs, but his fortune didn’t last forever. In attempts to win favor with the Empire, their nobles began wearing imported Imperial jewelry and the Hlaalu capitalized on the image it presented and began importing massive amounts of much less-expensive jewelry to sell off to their citizens and over time, it began to spread. It’s not common here in Ald’ruhn, but every once in a while I will see someone wearing an Imperial Dragon pendant or something similar and it breaks my heart to see that people would rather spend their money on the cheap goods pushed by the Empire through the Hlaalu than invest in their own people and local economy. I just wish they realized that every time they purchase goods imported from the Empire, that is money leaving Morrowind to serve people who have no interest in us beyond what they can take from us, but there is little I can do besides do the best I can to mitigate the consequences of their near-sighted actions.

What does matter is that I saw Dravyn today for the first time in years. For the first time since everything went down with Volene. I knew his business had fallen on hard times when I stopped seeing street merchants peddling poor imitations of his products, but he’s not even a jeweler anymore. He’s actually the foreman of one of one of the local eggmines now and the reason he came out all this way to find me was because he knew that I was probably the only person who would listen to him about the troubles of the Egg Miners’ Union. The Union has apparently lost a lot of business over the last year as the economy has declined. Restaurants, cornerclubs, inns, merchants—they’ve all ordered less and less with each month and it’s resulted in the Union having to cut wages just to stay afloat and it’s gotten to such a point where a lot of the miners are worried about the taxes that the House levies on every land-owning citizen. 

Dravyn came to me because his people are afraid that when they can’t pay their taxes, the House is going to repossess their homes and their land and he’s hopeful that I can speak to my father on behalf of the Union and persuade him into granting a Writ of Tax Exemption for the Union as a whole until business picks back up. In all honesty, I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t even know if my father can just do that anyways. Yes, he is a Councilor, but to grant hundreds of people tax exemption? I don’t even know if Archmaster Venim can do that without first receiving a supporting vote from the Council, but even if my father can’t do it himself, as a Redoran, he has the right to bring an issue before the Council to be deliberated and voted upon and I can see no reason as to why he wouldn’t at least be willing to do that much. He always talks about how he sees himself as a servant of the people and his people need him. He has to do this. If he doesn’t, I just can’t bear the thought of what will happen if all these people lose their homes and their land because there’s less of a demand for kwama eggs. These are people—our people—and we can’t fail them. If we fail them, what will happen to them? Will they just be abandoned to the streets or will we at least begin construction of public housing to support them until they find new arrangements? And what will they eat? St. Rilms’ is already struggling to support all of the people relying on it for a hot meal everyday; I couldn’t imagine if we had two or three hundred people coming for meals everyday—we just don’t have the facilities or the people to support that kind of volume. 

Ayem, please give me a sign or a vision or some form of guidance on how to help my people if my father can’t convince the Council to grant the Union this exemption. I know that they’ll probably listen to him, after all, he isn’t just any Redoran beseeching them to hear his plea, he sits on the Council right alongside them, but still, I’m afraid. What if something goes wrong and they decide to levy taxes regardless of the Union’s pleas for compassion and mercy? You can’t just take their homes away for reasons that are no fault of their own and expect them to go along peacefully. At best, there will be an uproar and they will live the rest of their lives knowing that the House abandoned them in their time of need and at worst—I don’t even want to think of it, but I know that if this does go badly, there very well could be bloodshed and I pray with all my heart and soul that it does not come to pass, but I fear for the worst. 

Please Ayem, manifest yourself in the hearts of the Council when they deliberate as to whether or not they should grant this exemption to the Union. I ask this not because I fear for the reputation of the House or the civil unrest that could follow, but because these are my people and I love them with all that I am. Please don’t allow them to be overlooked by the people who have dedicated their lives to service to them. I beg this of you, Ayem. Please don’t let my people suffer more than they already are.

_-Gandosa Arobar, Redoran Noblewoman_


	6. Act I, Part VI: The Ramimilk Deal

**Act I, Part VI: The Ramimilk Deal**

_By Councilor Arobar, Father of Nilas and Gandosa_

I have finally finished my arrangements with the cultists of Ramimilk and they will do as I have asked as they did once before. I find them to be a most peculiar sort of people. They serve the Third Corner and have given themselves wholly to the wickedness of the King of Rape, but they are not without reason, no, quite the opposite. Perhaps that is why I have turned a blind eye to their countless acts of sodomy and transgressions against all that is right in the world: They can be reasoned with. They know that I have not only the political power, but the physical prowess to kill them, and they respect that. They respect that I am greater than them and thus, they submit. It is something which, though I despise the lives they choose to lead, I do greatly admire. They recognize that everything, no matter how great or powerful, has something which it must submit to and they realize that I am one of the things they must submit to and that is why I choose to use them in capacities unfit for those who are Redoran. They are not bound by the codes of the Temple or of the House, but of their own warped worldviews, and they operate using reason and cunning as their way of navigating the world—something I wish Nilas and Gandosa had learned at some point, but they grew up in a manor with servants galore. I never forced them to live a real life, but rather, I allowed them to be sheltered and that is perhaps my greatest failing. I denied them both the opportunity to become something more than riders upon my coattails and parasites suckling from my hard-earned wealth and accolades. If only they were born earlier in my life like Nartise, but it doesn’t matter, she’s gone and all I have left are these leeches I call my children. Life is cruel.

The Cultists set on a trek for Marandus as soon as we finished our discussions and I have been riding back to Ald’ruhn to resolve the matter of Athyn’s disrespect. He forgets his place. He is their uncle, yes, but they are a reflection of me and for him to allow Nilas the opportunity to become Redoran when he hasn’t earned it—I can’t put into words my disgust. Does he not remember how hard I fought for the privilege of undergoing the Trials and he just goes ahead and sponsors my son who has done nothing to earn it? Does he not remember how I labored in his father’s muck fields for months amongst the Lessers to show how much I wanted it? Does he not remember how when his father still denied me sponsorship after having done every single one of his humiliating mockeries, I marched into the Council Chambers despite being a mere commoner, and demanded they sponsor me after having labored for months only to be denied it because “You are of common birth and not worthy of the Trials.” I was ready to challenge his father to a duel despite myself not being Redoran and thus having the right to do so, but I earned that right just like I earned everything else, and he gives it to my son, who has done nothing but bring shame upon my name after taking her from me. A part of me still wants to challenge him and to just deal with the consequences as they come, but I can’t forget the brother who stood alongside me at Tel Uvirith, at Shishi, and at countless battles. I miss those days. Everything was simpler back then when the three of us were out there leading campaigns in the name of the Tribunal and in the name of the House. Things weren’t so complicated. I didn’t have to worry about political alliances to secure ground for the House or choosing the right words at dinner parties with representatives from the other Houses, no, things were different. We were out there doing everything we imagined being Redoran was about and it was great, even if we did lose a lot of good people. I didn’t have to worry about anything really besides organizing the soldiers and getting them from Point A to Point B, but I’d go back to that in a heartbeat if it didn’t mean giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for. That’s what’s funny about life: You spend your whole life trying to make it to the top and when you finally make it to the top and when you finally get there, you wish you had never left the bottom. 

I just wish I could turn back time to those days. The three of us were young. We were proud. Yes, we were tired, worn down, burnt out, constantly hungry because there were enough rations, but I’d say we were happy. I’d say that back then is when Dralora and I really fell in love. Sure, I looked at her in the way any boy looks at a pretty girl when I was working those fields for her father, but I wasn’t really in love. I was a boy with a crush. It wasn’t until we had spilt blood and had our blood spilt together that I really saw into her heart and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I knew that I had to have her. I couldn’t imagine the thought of losing her, especially after Shishi when that old Telvanni n’wah nearly killed the three of us and she threw herself in front of me. She loved me enough to lay down her life for me and I did the same and that’s why I can’t forgive Nilas even after all these years. Had she just let the apothecary give her the elixir, she would’ve lived, even if he hadn’t, and that’s a sacrifice I was willing to make, but she wouldn’t. I begged her. I pleaded with her. I told her I’d never leave her side again if she’d take it, but she refused. She loved the little bastard so much that she was willing to die just so he could have the opportunity to piss on everything I’ve ever worked towards. I hate him. I hate him for being such a pathetic excuse for a son. I hate for being an embarrassment on my name. I hate him for so many things, but I know that soon, there will be justice. He took her from me. He took my queen, my muse, my reason for being from me, and soon, he will finally be faced with oblivion as he should’ve been so long ago and I will shed not a single tear for him, for he took the only woman I ever loved from me and knowing that the cultists will ensure I never see his face again, I can’t help but feel my heart lighten for the first time since I lost her. Though I’ll never hold her in my arms again, the wrong will finally be righted and perhaps then I’ll finally be able to forgive myself for letting her go.

Finally, I will be free.

_-Miner Arobar, Councilor of House Redoran_


	7. Act I, Part VII: Last Words

**Act I, Part VII: Last Words**

_By Nilas Arobar, Son of Miner Arobar_

Father was right. He was right just like he’s always right. I wasn’t ready for this, but I don’t think anybody can ever be ready for something like this. I’m hiding in a nook as I hear the heavy footsteps of one of those—those things. I don’t even know what to call it, but it’s a monstrosity of flesh and bone and they’re so—so strong. And dangerous. I thought I was a warrior and I thought I could do this, but here I am, hiding like a scared child, because I made a mistake. I made a big mistake and I don’t know if there’s any coming back from it. I can’t just leave without having made it through the Trials, Father would never forgive me for dishonoring him like that, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it through this. This is—this is more than I ever imagined it would be. I just want it to stop. I just want to go home and rethink my life, but I can’t and now I’m probably going to die in here. I’m going to die because he was right, I’m not good enough to be Redoran, but I have to keep going. I have to. I might not be worthy of being Redoran, but I do have my honor and I have to protect it even if it means dying in this—this—place. 

I just wish I had known what I was walking into when I came here. I knew that whatever awaited me would be difficult, but I wasn’t ready for this. How could I be? The things in here—they’re—unnatural. The Underpriest told me that the residents of this place were unwelcoming of visitors, but I had no idea what they were. I knew there would be ancestral guardians and I figured I could make my way through a few skeletons, but those—those things—those monstrosities of flesh and bone—they’re so much. It’s like something pulled from the darkest nightmares and made real in this world and I just—I can’t fight them—they’re too strong for me to fight. I can handle my own in a fight, but those things, they’re just—I can’t even describe it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t have the words. But I have to do this. I have to keep going, even though I’m scared, even though I’m probably going to die here, because a Redoran doesn’t quit and though I’m probably not going to be a Redoran, much less make it out of here, I still have to carry myself like one. I have to go back out there. I haven’t even reached where the spirit who oversees the Trials is yet and I have to get there at least—I have to at least make it to him before I die or this is all for nothing.

I just hope that whatever happens over these next few hours, my sister knows I love her and that I’ve always been grateful for all of the sacrifices she’s made for me. You always were my guardian angel and I’ll never forget you in this life or the next. Thank you, Gandosa. Thank you for everything. 

_-Nilas Arobar, Redoran Aspirant_


	8. Act I, Part VIII: The Privilege of Apathy

**Act I, Part VIII: The Privilege of Apathy**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar_

I knew that my message would find Father quickly once he returned from whatever business called him away in such a haste and I can’t say I’m surprised by his response. His words, verbatim, were: “The House does not grant tax exemption to entire organizations and to even ask such of me or anyone else is absurd. If they feel it is necessary, they may each submit the necessary forms to Neminda, but otherwise, they will be held responsible for the taxes they owe to the House.” He didn’t even seem to care that these people are facing the risk of their homes and lands taken from them; it’s as though he feels this entire situation is just—beneath him. I hate that about him. He’s always been like this—so pompous and arrogant, without a concern in the world for anything but the good of the House and himself and I can’t take it. He talks so much about his concern for the good of his people, but when his people need him to act, he dismisses them just like he is right now, and I won’t let him do it this time. He can dismiss me all he wants, but I know Uncle Athyn will hear me out—at least more than my father did. I just can’t stand idly by as hundreds of people are set up to lose their land holdings, some of which have been in their families for generations and have their spent their whole lives working to get them in the first place. I just won’t allow it. I can’t allow it.

I just wish Father would step outside his bubble for one moment and look at the people he is supposed to be representing and protecting. He has no idea what their lives are like and I doubt he’s ever been worried about how he’s going to feed himself or been too exhausted to work and why would he? He’s spent the majority of his life in the House. He’s never had to scrounge for food or worry about losing his property some unnecessary tax that just lines the coffers of the House! He has always been provided for by the House and that’s why he scoffs at the People who ask for lenience and help, because he’s sheltered from the real world. He thinks his little web of politics is the ‘real world’, but he’s mistaken—the real world is people like Dravyn who are struggling to get by because they’re being strangled by a mix of shifting markets and unreasonable taxes in these trying times and he scoffs at their pleas for help, because he doesn’t understand what it’s like to be them. He wouldn’t dream of stepping foot in Rilms’ Kitchen, because it’s ‘beneath him’, and that’s why he doesn’t have a clue about what it’s like anymore and the fact that he can be so callous towards the Egg Miners’ Union as they labor day in and day out to feed the people of Ald’ruhn, it’s not only absurd, it’s disgusting. He should be ashamed of himself, but he won’t—he doesn’t care. He only cares about his own little agendas and I must say, for a man who prides himself as much as he does on being Redoran, he reminds me more of a Hlaalu than most Hlaalu I’ve ever met. 

But it doesn’t matter that Father doesn’t care for the plights of his people, because I’m sure Uncle Athyn will at least set me on the right track towards helping them even if he doesn’t agree to champion their plea before the Council either. And his advice won’t be just having them all fill out forms that will almost certainly be rejected. Still though, I can’t shake my frustration at Father for being so instantly dismissive towards it. He doesn’t even bother feigning a modicum of concern for his people anymore unless he’s worried it will somehow affect his reputation and that’s why he’s so ignorant to the real world outside of his little bubble. He doesn’t understand the destitute and impoverished are a volatile group. I see it everyday at Rilms’ Kitchen when people who were once reasonable, respectable people, will go into brawls over things as petty as a look that probably wasn’t even meant offensively and his apathy to the plight of the Union will put hundreds of people into that kind of state, but he doesn’t care. He just doesn’t care, because it’s not something that affects his little agenda that he’s working towards. If hundreds of people are in the streets, he won’t care, and why would he? It’s not his problem; it’s the problem of people much lower ranking in the House to deal with, so why should he give it even a moment’s thought?

This is exactly the kind of thing that I hate about the House. The people in power are so removed from the day-to-day lives of the citizens that they write laws and set policies without having any real grounding in how it’ll affect the people they’re writing them for. Even the Councilors like Councilor Ramoran or Councilor Llethri who both came up from being common people like Dravyn or Volene have forgotten what it’s like, but that’s why I put my trust in Uncle Athyn. He was born into the House like Nilas and I, but he’s always been so compassionate towards the common people, just like Mother was. He’s never been a commoner just like I’ve never been one, but he’s not one to sequester himself to the council chambers and only keep the company of others of repute in the Great Houses, no, he’s a man of the people and he says that Father used to be too, but I often wonder if that’s just Uncle Athyn seeing the best in him like he does in everyone. It doesn’t matter though, because even if Father actually once cared about people, that died a long time ago because I’ve never seen it and he got worse once Mother passed. 

Regardless though, I need to begin composing my request to meet with Uncle Athyn regarding the concerns of the Union about the taxes the House will levy upon them. I know he doesn’t mind just coming unannounced (unlike Father), but I do try to respect that he is a busy man with a busy schedule and I don’t want to bother him more than I have to. 

****_-Gandosa Arobar, Redoran Noblewoman_


	9. Act I, Part IX: Reflections

**Act I, Part IX: Reflections**

_By Miner Arobar, Father of Nilas and Gandosa_

There are few things I admire about the godless Telvanni, but I can not deny that I do have utmost respect for the independence of each and every one of them. I have heard it said that no man is an island, but I dare say, whoever it is that coined that term never met one of the Telvanni. They are a confederacy of predators kept in a state of order only because they recognize that every action has consequences, both anticipated and otherwise. Though it is acceptable for them to simply kill their rivals, they recognize that their rivals have likely been smart enough to ingratiate themselves to more powerful members of the House through being good little lackeys and realize that even killing the most insignificant seeming little toady could result in angering one of the ancient wizard-lords that the Telvanni are so known for. But. That does not change that each and every Telvanni recognizes himself as the manufacturer of his own destiny and does not feel beholden to things such as morality or ethics and views those that are as limited. Perhaps that is another one of the few things I admire about them: They are an amoral people. 

They are not immoral. Immorality is deliberately doing what one knows to be wrong. The Sodomites of Ramimilk—they are immoral. They are useful, yes, but they are disgusting both inside and out and should they ever lose that usefulness, I can’t say that I would spare them from the justice of Temple Code any longer and perhaps I personally would be the one to enact it. No, the Telvanni are different though. They are creatures who have divorced themselves from morality entirely and embraced a nihilism of sorts that only someone who has removed himself from any emotional attachments to anything could. It’s why they are so much freer than the rest of us. They have no masters except themselves. Certainly, they may indenture themselves unto others to gain favor or knowledge, but they know that in the end, their goals are the only goals that matter. Their ambition is the only master they serve. It’s why they are perhaps the only truly amoral beings I’ve ever met; their view of the world is one colored by an egoistic solipsism: “I am the only thing that matters. Everything else exists only as an obstacle or a tool to be overcome or used.” 

They are soulless, godless monsters. Each and every one of them. But that does not change the fact that I wish I were too an island, just as each of them is an island. However, though I my nerves have deadened since I lost Dralora, I still have some emotional ties to the world and I am not sure as to how I feel about that, although at the moment, I feel annoyed by them. They’re a vulnerability and vulnerability is something I don’t need, especially now that I won’t be so distracted by Nilas’ constant need for attention and can finally focus on securing Suran for the House, but right now, I can’t even really think about Suran or Serjo Oran or any of it. Athyn barged into my office in quite a huff over my refusal to champion Gandosa’s request before the Council and he said things that, admittedly, shook me. He said things that I would’ve killed any other man for saying. He asked me how I could turn a blind eye to my own people and I don’t think I’ve ever been so offended in my life. How could I turn a blind eye to my people? I’ve devoted my entire goddamned life to my people, but because I’m not there with that embarrassment I call a daughter in some soup kitchen or embarrassing myself before the Council to try to get some tax break for the Egg Miners’ Union, I’m turning a blind eye? If any other man had said that to me, I’d have challenged him to a duel right then and there for insulting my honor, but Athyn knows that I could never lay a finger on him. Not after all we’ve been through, but it doesn’t change the fact that he disrespected me because he doesn’t understand what it is I’m doing for our people right now. He’s always been worried about the underdogs of the world and make no mistake, I am too, hell, I was one. I grew up on the streets and made something of myself though and that’s why I realize I have bigger problems to deal with than a few egg miners who are worried they’re going to get their hovels seized for failure to pay taxes, but he doesn’t get that. He’s worried about all the touchy-feely things that make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, well, Athyn, there’s bigger things at stakes than a few people losing their houses—I’m looking at the big picture, Athyn, something you never could do. But it’s okay. I forgive you, Athyn. You were just doing what you always do and trying to look out for the little guy. I hope you never lose that, but don’t mistake that just because I’m not there in the streets doesn’t mean I have ‘turned a blind eye to my people’. While you and Gandosa are trying to treat the symptoms of the disease, I’m fighting to cure it and I hope you see the day I do, Athyn. I really do, because you deserve to be there the day I finally cut out the cancer the Hlaalu have invited into our homes and them with it. It truly will be a day for celebration. 

Soon though. We will see that day soon enough and it all starts with Suran, but to take Suran takes money. It’s the only thing Hlaalu understand and if I talk the Archmaster into allowing me to withdraw the necessary funds to ‘persuade’ the Commissioner of the Suran Hospitality Association to accidentally disclose a list of wholesalers currently and potentially selling to Suran’s thriving hospitality industry, then I might be able to slowly start starving them out. Nobody wants to live somewhere with a food shortage, much less vacation somewhere they’re going to starve, and who goes to Suran except for people looking for a good time? I very much am looking forward to that meeting with the Archmaster to discuss my plans and even more to finally sitting down with the Commissioner who has already expressed that his lips do get a little loose when there’s money involved. 

The day of reckoning is coming, Oran. I told you the day you backed out of our deal so long ago that it wouldn’t make a bit of difference in the long run for me, but that it was the worst mistake you could’ve possibly made. You laughed in my face when I said that, after all, I was just fresh-faced newcomer to the political arena and you told me I was all talk, just like all the other Redorans you knew. I suppose we’ll see if I’m all talk when I take your eggmine, when I take your city, and when I finally send the Morag Tong to do to you what I would if I didn’t know you’d go running like a scared child when I issued the challenge of a duel. We will see if you’re still laughing, Oran. We will see.

_-Miner Arobar, Councilor of House Redoran_


	10. Act I, Part X: The Man He Used to Be

**Act I, Part X: The Man He Used to Be**

_By Athyn Sarethi, Brother-in-Law of Miner and Uncle of Nilas and Gandosa_

Everyday, it gets harder to look at him and still see the man we once followed into what should’ve been certain death time and time again and my heart aches over it. I want to believe that he’s still in there, somewhere, but I’m starting to lose faith in it. He kept us together when we were hungry, tired, cold, and terrified beyond what most people could ever comprehend, and he did it because he cared about us and loved each and every one of us like we were his own sons—back when I thought he’d love his son if he ever had one—and looking at him now—I just can’t reconcile the two as being one and the same. 

The man we followed in the Telvanni Campaign would’ve stormed the Council himself over the matter of his people being ripped of their homes over unnecessary taxes and now he can’t even be bothered to draft a motion to have it heard before the Council? It’s breaks my heart to know that his has hardened so much when it once bled for every man and woman of Morrowind, past and present. We didn’t follow him because he was a great warrior. We didn’t follow him because he was a brilliant tactician. We followed him because his heart beat for all the people of our great land and when he spoke, we knew that anything was possible so long as we stood together and didn’t lose hope that we would make it through it, no matter how scared we were, no matter how hopeless it seemed, and now, he seems so wrapped up in his political schemes and machinations that he’s lost sight of what we fought for all those years ago. He’s forgotten that our brothers and sisters didn’t give their lives in the Telvanni Campaign for the House to fill its coffers or for us to gain ground in the political arena, they gave their lives because they knew that if nobody stood up to Uvirith than we would lose our entire way of life. They gave their lives for the future of our people, for our children to grow up in a world where there’s still some semblance of honor and justice, not in a world where the strong bully the weak into submission and rule as petty tyrants, and he’s forgotten that. He’s forgotten everything we sacrificed for all those years ago. He’s forgotten when he held that little girl who was barely old enough to call herself a woman as she spent her last moments choking on her own blood at the Battle of Mawia and how hard he cried into the night in our command tent about the guilt he felt at knowing she’d never go home. He’s forgotten the Massacre of Nchurdamz when we were ambushed and he had to make a choice for the good of the war effort to abandon men who had sworn to him to follow him, even if it meant their deaths, but in the end, I don’t think he’s really forgotten anything about the War—I think he’s forgotten who he is. 

I remember him at the beginning of the Telvanni Campaign. He had bright eyes and big hopes, just like Nilas does today, but the War, it took a toll on him as it did all of us. Some of us never came home and none of us ever came home the same person we left as. Miner, Dralora, and I, we were just kids with shiny ranks when we left for the War and it didn’t take long for us to lose that naiveté that we had brought with us. We had all been through hardship. We had been through the Trials. We had all seen death in the past, but what we saw in the War, that was something none of us had ever seen before. Nobody tells you what it’s like to hold somebody who used to irk you to no end with their incessant chatter and just look at them and tell them, “Come on, Raynil, talk to me! Tell me the story about how you caught that big old blue-gill off the pier that one day! Come on, you never shut up about that damn fish and now you won’t say a goddamn word!” You don’t give the rear end of a dead rat about that fish, you just want to hear him say something—anything—and he won’t. He won’t no matter how long you sit there and how loud you scream, because, he’s just gone. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. And that was something we had to face everyday. We had to face the reality that some of the people we were eating with and smoking with and telling jokes with that morning wouldn’t still be around to do those things by time we set up camp that night. 

I remember as we were getting ready to storm Tel Uvirith at the end of the Telvanni Campaign how almost everyone was talking about what they were going to do when they got home. Some were talking about how they were going to get piss-drunk at the first cornerclub they found and others said they were going to take their earnings to Suran for some well earned R&R, but Miner, he wasn’t with the men talking about what he was going to do after we finally ended this infernal war. He had secluded himself in the Command Tent and I asked him what his plans were after it was finally over and I’ll never forget those chilling words he spoke to me that night, “Once Uvirith is dead, I’ll just move onto the next thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, until something finally stops me.” He didn’t say it with some sense of bravado or anything of the such—it was the way he said it—how absolutely indifferent he was to it that made me recoil a bit. 

When we first left for the War, he carried a bit of a swagger about him and a cocky bravado to match and now, he was just a shell of the man he was before. He still said the right things and had that same charismatic execution in giving rousing speeches to men on the cusp of defeat, but there was something different about him. He was empty inside. He was broken. He had seen so much death and so many of his friends die that he wasn’t the same man he was before, but even then, he wasn’t the man he is now. That man, I know when that man was born, and that’s what bothers me. We came home to a hero’s welcome when we marched back into Ald’ruhn and it tugged at his heartstrings as he thought about the people like that little girl and like Raynil and all the others who couldn’t come home like we did. He thought about and he hated it. He felt unworthy. What had he done to deserve all this praise? To deserve this celebration or the medals they pinned on his chest? He had led good men and women to their deaths. He had killed countless people. All these accolades cast upon him after he took charge when our CO died in our first battle and how we had been the tip of the spear that penetrated Uvirith’s undead legions—all it did was remind him of the people who he couldn’t save and he blamed himself for all of it. He blamed himself for each and every person under his command and we tried to talk him. We tried to tell him, “It was war, brother. It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill them.” But he didn’t care. He’d always say he should’ve done something different. He should’ve protected them more. He should’ve been the one to die, not them, not any of them. He broke. My best friend, my brother, the husband of my beloved sister, he broke in a way that no man should ever break, and that’s why he reclused inside himself for so long. He didn’t speak much to anyone, not even Dralora, and he lost himself staring into space for long periods of time, but something did bring him back. It was the day that Dralora told him he was going to be a father. For the first time since before the War, he smiled. For the first time since everything happened, he seemed like a person again, and I remember my sister crying with joy at seeing that one little smile. She was so happy to see him smile even if it was a brief moment, because it meant he was still in there—somewhere.

By time Nartise was born, he had retired his place in the Redoran Military and taken a place in politics at the behest of (then) Councilor Venim and he loved that little girl more than he loved life itself. She was his princess and his whole reason for being. There was nothing in this life or any other that could compare and though he still bore the scars of the War, they had started to heal as he realized that life could go on and that maybe there was a reason that he made it home, and it was her. She was the reason.

And I remember joining him in the political arena and how, in a lot of ways, it wasn’t so different from the War. We weren’t out there on the front line risking our lives and watching our brothers die day in and day out, but we were surrounded by enemies here too, even within our own house. Somehow, we found ourselves missing the War. Everything made sense back then and this—this didn’t. We became leaders in our house to fight for a future for our people and it didn’t take long for us to realize that not everyone who had taken up politics had done so with their people’s best interests in mind. Many had more personal agendas. They wanted fame. Fortune. Prestige. Miner and I? We were just a couple of old soldiers trying to reintegrate ourselves into the swing of things after the War and trying to put into action all the things we said we would if we ever got home during the early days of it and we did—somewhat. But the thing about that is we made enemies and lots of them. It didn’t take long before we had both fended off the Morag Tong on more than one occasion and we knew it was from our brothers in the House, because the two of us, we were advocating for changes to the system. We wanted any citizen of Redoran territory to be able to bring forth issues before the Council, not just Redorans. We pushed for funding social programs like building more public housing and instituting a Redoran Food Bank for the poorest citizens to withdraw from—we were a couple of radicals fighting for our people any way we could, and now that the War was over, that meant fighting for them at home. 

The former Archmaster was none too impressed with us though; he said our plans were impossible to implement. He said we simply didn’t have the money and we’d never been to raise it without raising taxes on the citizenry to unrealistic levels. Miner took the Archmaster’s words as a challenge and said to him, in front of the Council, “Watch me get the money. I swear on my honor that the day will come when the House’s coffers overflow like King Orgnum’s and it will be by my hand that they do.” Few had spoken to the Archmaster in such a fashion and even fewer had done so with such a boast, but he made an impression that day and that’s why he went to Suran. He went there to forge a trade alliance with Serjo Oran where his city would exclusively get foodstuffs from House Redoran’s farmers, ranchers, and egg miners in exchange for rates well below market. An agreement was made, a deal was drafted and signed, and for a time, things went well. Both parties profited beyond measure and Miner’s boast was backed up by his actions, but nothing stays gold forever and the deal soured shortly after an eggmine was discovered near Suran—Inanius Eggmine. By the terms of the deal, the Serjo couldn’t use anything from it unless it was given to the Redoran and that’s why he broke the deal. He broke the deal and the profits dwindled on the Redoran end and only improved on Suran’s end now that they had locally-sourced eggs to sell rather than importing them from Ald’ruhn. 

Following Serjo Oran’s abandonment of the signed deal, profits dwindled and the House went into a brief state of economic shock as a major source of income dried up. The deal falling apart because of Oran’s greed served to mar my brother’s name and reputation in the eyes of the Council. The Archmaster himself even went so far as to tell him him, “Perhaps next time you boast, you should actually follow through.” I had never seen him so angry and he challenged the Archmaster to a duel over it, something unheard of. For someone of Miner’s station at the time, someone of minor political standing challenging him, the Archmaster, it was—shocking, but he did it. He did it and he cut the Archmaster down in the dueling ring and looked up into the crowds and screamed unto them, “I fought for you in the Telvanni Campaign and I will fight for you now that I am home! He is dead because he insulted my honor by thinking that I would abandon my commitments to you because I have faced a setback! You are my people and my brothers and sisters alike have laid their lives for you and I will honor their sacrifice by devoting mine to you!” The crowds cheered for him and his rousing proclamation of service. That is one thing about the man I miss, he truly was a man of passion—something he’s long lost since then.

He found himself growing more and more devoted to honoring his boast to the late Archmaster who had since been replaced by Bolyn Venim, a man who had mentored Miner since his return from the War, and he found himself growing distant from his fatherly duties. Nartise was growing up before his eyes and he was missing every moment of it, but he kept telling himself he had things that had to be taken care of and duties to the House that had to be handled. He tried explaining that to her as well, but how do you explain something abstract like honor or duty to a child? You can try, but they simply lack the ability to understand.

As Miner and I rose through the ranks, we progressively for our respective families, but I still made time—Miner didn’t. In fact, he went so far as to reach out to Serjo Oran and to offer him his daughter’s hand in marriage and Oran’s response was one of amusement. He refused Nartise, because she was not educated in courtly matters or ‘fit to be a noble’s wife’. He told my brother that the only way he would ever—EVER—consider marriage to a daughter of his is if she were raised ‘properly’ and Nartise was certainly not, and though I hate to admit it, he was right. Nartise was not meant for a political life. She was wild. Rebellious. She had a poet’s heart that pumped her veins full of angst and a knack for mischief. Wouldn’t have her any other way, but she wasn’t meant for that kind of life—never was. And that’s why Gandosa was sired and I can think of no greater difference between Miner than our view of family. 

My family is my life and my career is my means to support them. I think Miner used to think like that as well, but the more time around Archmaster Venim, the less he did until eventually he came to the view that his career was his life and his family was there to support it, hence why he sired a daughter for the sole purpose of marrying her off to Oran to get his trade alliance back. There were only three things he cared about anymore: The House, Nartise, and Dralora. Gandosa? She was just a tool. A means to an end and I suppose that’s why I’ve always spent so much time with her, especially after Dralora started to get sick. I knew she needed somebody in her life to look out for her and care about her and I knew that Miner, for all of his wonderful qualities, was a terrible father, and that my sister was getting too sick to look after her children. 

Nilas was an accident that was meant to come along and it took everything my sister had to carry him to term. Miner pleaded with her not to, because despite how little time he spent at home anymore, he did love her and Nartise, but she did and it took every last bit of her strength to bring Nilas into this world. She barely lasted long enough after he was born to hold him and look at the face of her baby boy, but it was enough. I was there when my nephew was born and she smiled the most peaceful smile I had ever seen her smile, even before the War. I think she knew it was over—all the hurting, all the pain, all the suffering—and she just—let go. And that’s when Miner broke. From the day Nilas was born, Miner hated him with everything he had for taking his wife from him and in his grief from losing her, he reclused just like he had after we returned from the War, but this time, he wasn’t just a hollow shell of a man. There was something inside him this time. A deep, invisible anger that he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to, which he never has, and it’s times like these when Gandosa comes to me about her father dismissing her pleas to help the Union that I wonder if that anger he’s carried with him for so long has burned up whatever humanity and empathy and whatever else his heart had left. I’ve seen the way he looks at Nilas; it’s a way no father should ever look at their child—it’s a look of hatred, of disdain, of absolute resentment, and yet, it’s the only look he’s ever given him. It’s that very thing, that hatefulness that he’s become so accustomed to, that is why Nartise abandoned him not long after Dralora and hasn’t so much as written in thirty some-odd years. 

I just wish he could realize that this anger he’s carrying, it’s something he can’t carry forever. I love him. There is no one I would’ve rather had by my side in the War than him and there’s no one I trust more than him, but the man he’s becoming scares me. It’s not the man I’ve known since we were nearly children—it’s someone else wearing his face and using his voice, but it’s not him. The man I knew would walk the battlefield after every skirmish and every battle to count the casualties and pray over those who had died following him into battle. There were many times he would return to the Command Tent with tears in his eyes if not on his cheeks and I wonder what happened to that man. I miss that man. I miss the man who was considered a radical by the Council when we were fresh upstarts after the War. I miss the man who told me Nartise’s word was “Fa-fa” with the biggest smile I’d ever seen in my life. I miss that man very much and I very much hope I get the opportunity to see him again one day. 

_-Athyn Sarethi, Councilor of House Redoran_


	11. Act I, Part XI: Choices

**Part XI: Choices**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar_

My meeting with Father didn’t go so well, but Uncle Athyn has once again proven to be a trusted ally in even the most trying of times—I really can not thank him enough for all that he does, especially now that his kindness has extended beyond my brother and me and to the people who really need it like Dravyn and the Egg Miners. Although I say that, but it’s not as if he has not always been a man of the people. I remember it was when I was just a little girl that he took me to lunch at Rat in the Pot, a place that Father detested then and still does to this day for a multitude of reasons, and invited an interesting Argonian who called himself Tongue-Toad to join us for lunch. I didn’t understand then why he did it, especially knowing Father’s feelings towards their kind, but he explained that he and Tongue-Toad had a bit of friendship—an odd one at that. Like I said, I didn’t understand a lot of things back then, but as I got older and a little bit wiser, I came to hear the talk about that place and that it was a place where you could procure certain—services—that you wouldn’t normally find elsewhere and that Tongue-Toad, he was an information broker with ties to the kind of organization that provides those kinds of services. It didn’t take me long after learning all these interesting little facts that I approached Uncle Athyn about it and he sat me down and said to me very calmly, “Gandosa, people like Tongue-Toad and the others who hang around that little club aren’t necessarily bad people—they’re people without a lot of options who are making the best they can of a bad situation most of the time. People like your father don’t tend to realize that, but I want you to understand, just because someone does bad things doesn’t make them a bad person. I know you’re young and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense right now, but you’ll understand when you’re older.”

He was right. I didn’t understand, because it wasn’t so long ago that I was pretty naïve like Nilas. Everything in my world was fairly black and white and as I saw it, they were criminals and that was that, but as I got older and I got to know people like Volene and Dravyn, I came to realize that sometimes you have to make choices—hard choices—and sometimes there’s no right, or even good answers to these choices, and then you look at people like Tongue-Toad and the others who hang around Rat in the Pot and you realize they’re just doing the best they can to get by in a place that’s not always going to treat them fairly. I suppose that’s one thing I’ve realized over the years is that there’s never really any right answers. I mean, even my own life is just a series of making choices trying to balance the expectations of my role as the daughter of ‘thee Councilor Arobar’, taking care of Nilas, and my own dreams and passions. It doesn’t matter though, because no matter what choices you make, you’re going to have regrets—it’s just about making sure you can live with them, I guess. 

I suppose my biggest regret is that I abandoned my dreams to stay home and take care of Nilas. It’s not that I don’t love my little brother or anything of the sort, but when Mother died giving birth to him, I knew I couldn’t leave him alone with Father and Nartise. Nartise was always out on her little escapades without a care in the world and Father—I couldn’t just abandon him to that. He suffered a lot growing up but I like to think I shielded him from some of it even if I couldn’t stop it all, but that doesn’t change the fact that I never wanted to be a mother—at least not to my little brother. I had dreams. I was going to go to Mournhold and become a Handmaiden of Ayem just like I always wanted, but, I had to make choices and now I’m stuck with them. It’s not that I’m too old, but with—what happened that night with Serjo Oran—I just don’t—I don’t think they’d consider me fit to join the Sisterhood. It doesn’t matter though. I made my choices and I’m happy with them—happy enough anyways—besides, I do a lot of good here anyways. Sure, I could’ve been one of the Handmaidens and been a part of the sisterhood and been fulfilled and actualized, but I was needed here, and besides, Father would’ve been incredibly disappointed. Mother on the other hand, she was so proud that I wanted to become a Handmaiden—she told all of her friends even though I was just a little girl talking about possibilities. But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters anymore. 

What does matter is that Uncle Athyn agreed to help me. He’s helping me give these people a fighting chance at not being forced into situations like Toad-Tongue and the others at Rat in the Pot who have no choice but to circumvent the laws of a civilized society to just to eek out an existence and I couldn’t be more grateful. These people are good, honest people, and if we won’t fight for them, who will? Everybody like my father always says it’s not their responsibility and it’s not their problem, but I wish more people realized that when one of us suffers, we all suffer. When one of us struggles, we all struggle. We don’t just exist in a vacuum; everything we do or don’t do has an impact and when we say to our neighbors, to our friends, to the people we cross paths with everyday, “I don’t care about you or your problems,” all we do is work towards a colder, nastier world, and I won’t let that happen. We are not Telvanni. We are Redoran and that means sacrifice for our fellow man; it means being better than just brushing them off even though that’s the easy thing to do. It means doing what is right, even when it is hard and that is why I admire Uncle Athyn so much. He is everything a Redoran is supposed to be and though I will never undergo the Trials to become Redoran, I always find myself asking, “Would Uncle Athyn be disappointed in me if I did this?” and so far, as long as I use that as my general rule, I tend to do okay. 

I guess I’m just glad that I know that even though it feels like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders sometimes, I can always go to Uncle Athyn for a few words of wisdom. I hope he knows I appreciate him, for more than that of course, but especially for always being there for me when I need it. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without him.

_-Gandosa Arobar, Redoran Noblewoman_


	12. Act I, Part XII: The Hero of the Union

**Act I, Part XII: The Hero of the Union**

_By Dravyn Balen, Friend of Gandosa_

I found myself sequestered away in a corner with a couple fingers of sujamma in one hand and a pipe of hackle-lo in the other as she gave her speech. Gandosa always was good at talking to people—has that kinda charisma and honest-to-ALMSIVI goodness about her that just warms peoples’ hearts, but, they don’t know her like I do. Sure, she talks good and she believes every word she’s saying, but I remember when she was just a kid running around with Volene and she always had a glass half full way of looking at things and it doesn’t look to me like that’s changed much. It’s not that I don’t like her, hell, I love the kid, but she’s got these people dancing and cheering and calling her a hero when all she’s done for sure is get our issues heard before the Council. There’s no guarantees, not even with her father being on the Council, but I’m not going to ruin a good thing—this is the first time in months that I’ve seen some of these guys smile and I’m not going to mess that up. Doesn’t change though that she’s still the naïve little girl that was getting into trouble with Volene all the time back in the day. Doesn’t matter though. What’s going to happen is going to happen and we just need to accept that. I personally think we’re in for some hard times, but nobody cares what a washed up old tradesman thinks these days—I’m just an old man with a body that has lots of cracks and pops these days and not a damn thing more.

I hope she’s right though. I hope her Councilor Athyn does draft the best damn motion they’ve ever heard in those Council Chambers and I hope those Councilors understand this isn’t just a matter of money to my guys or anyone in the Union really. This is life or death. I’ve got guys in my mine alone who have families with small children; they couldn’t survive out here, especially not with the ash storms starting to get people sick with stuff that I’ve never seen before. They need to realize that you take their homes and you’re going to have to drag them out, kicking and screaming, and that’s if they don’t outright give their lives fighting for them. That’s the thing about Gandosa though—she understands that. For all the trouble those kids got into all the time, she wised up quick about life once she got out of Under-Skar and into the real world. I mean hell, she saw me back in the day when I had my own shop and people would come from all over Vvardenfell and the Mainland alike for a chance to own an authentic Dravyn Balen necklace or ring, and she saw what happened when that dried up. She saw me in the streets hassling pedestrians to just take a look at my inventory, because I was on the brink of losing everything I had spent my whole life working towards and she saw when I closed the doors to my shop one last time and when I just tossed all my inventory into a crate outside for anyone to just take. After all, I couldn’t give the stuff away after the Hlaalu engineered the Imperial Silver craze of 322. 

Still though, just because she understands what’s on the line for these people doesn’t mean she’s aware of the power her words possess. She’s got them drinking and smiling and singing songs together in her honor, because she’s convinced them all that everything’s going to be okay, but I’m not like these youngbloods in the Union. I know better. I know that until the Writ is signed, it doesn’t mean a damned thing to anybody with any power in this town or any other, because after all, I was supposed to get a big order for my wares from the House. I remember hammering out the deal with Councilor Ramoran for weeks; he wanted two-hundred bonemold signet rings made for 61st Redoran Infantry, A Co. as a reward for their deeds at some Sixth House base I suppose. I couldn’t believe it. It was a godsend to me as it was going to be the order that was going to save my business and save everything, but, as things like that tend to go, he pulled out at the last minute and opted for Adamantium Signet Rings imported from Mournhold. Just like that, I knew it was over. I knew my life’s work meant nothing and that things weren’t going to get better for me, but, that’s life and that’s why I’m worried about her getting all of these men so excited for something that might not even happen, because now they’re expecting it, and if it doesn’t happen, you’re not only going to have a lot of very scared, anxious men, but a lot of scared, anxious, and disappointed men who now feel like they were lied to. I pray everything works out, but I’m worried it won’t—things don’t tend to in times like these and I’m scared of what’ll happen when they don’t. 

It’ll b a dark time for Ald’ruhn, I know that much for sure, but I’m just hoping it’s not bloody. That said, I think it’d be a good idea if I just hunkered down and maybe put a little money away for a good axe I think—things might get scary here soon and I don’t want to be unprepared if they do.

_­-Dravyn Balen, Foreman of Dremma-Maz Eggmine_


	13. Act I, Part XIII: The Suran Business

**Act XIII: The Suran Business**

_By Miner Arobar, Father of Nilas and Gandosa_

The past few days have been blur since I started making arrangements for my trip to Suran, but everything into place exactly as I knew it would. Commissioner Feranos Milar and I have a meeting scheduled in two days at Desele’s House of Earthly Delights. Typical of a Hlaalu to do business in a brothel, but what can be expected of their kind? They have no honor, they have no morals, they have only a commitment to squeezing every coin out of every deal and they’d sell their own mothers if they though they could get a good deal for her, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that my informants in Oran’s little ‘cabinet’ have been most helpful in this little endeavor and this coup would not be possible without them funneling so much information on every detail of Suran’s socioeconomic and political status; it’s unfortunate that they will have to be taken care of right alongside Oran though when everything comes to fruition. It’s regrettable though. If only they had given me even a smidgeon of reason to believe to turn on me like they did on him, I wouldn’t be needing to plan out how I’m going to deal with them once everything’s handled, but I suppose that’s not important at the moment. 

What is important is that I placed an order for a bottle of T&S West Weald Hors d’Age brandy and it still hasn’t arrived. I can’t keep waiting for it to arrive, but that was going to be a token of my appreciation to the Commissioner for meeting with me—however—it seems I will simply have to do without. I can’t say I’m surprised though. I seldom do business with the Empire’s people and this is but one of the many reasons why. I purchase a bottle of brandy that they appraise to be worth well over a thousand drakes and here I am waiting for it and once it arrives, it’ll be useless to me. I don’t drink the swill of the Imperial dogs and the only reason I wanted is because I know Feranos has a taste for Cyrodiilic Brandy and I could think of no better gift than the best brandy in Cyrodiil, fit for the Emperor himself. But it doesn’t matter though, I know men like Feranos—they’re slimy little cretins who will tell you whatever you want once you start throwing numbers at them, but I could be wrong. He could actually have a spine under there, somewhere, but I doubt it, after all, he’s Hlaalu.

Still though, I don’t like going into meetings unprepared. I’ve talked to my informants and they’ve given me a full scoop of gossip about the ‘good Commissioner’ and his penchant for sugar. Be a real shame if the Empire found out that he’s the biggest consumer of moon sugar in all of Suran, especially given he’s a man of importance and power, with a reputation to uphold in the House. I hope it doesn’t come to that though. I am loathe to lower myself to intimidation tactics when dealing with business of this delicate nature, but I suppose Feranos will make the choice about how we handle business when I see him in a couple days.

And as for the motion that Athyn so ‘selflessly’ put forward this morning before the Council in regards to the Union, I can’t say I’m sad that it didn’t pass, but I am disappointed that he would even go so far as to propose it. He knows better. He knows that I’m on the cusp of taking Suran back and that it’s going to be a financial burden to rebuild it, after all, I imagine the people of Suran will likely riot and loot once they realize the tourism is going to dry up and that they’re going to be starved out. It’ll be torn apart, but we will rebuild it and it will be in the reconstruction that we’ll create countless jobs and show our people that while the Hlaalu leave their people to starve and riot, the Redorans will always be there to pick them back up and dust them off in the aftermath of it all. 

I just don’t understand why he’s fighting me on making this happen. I don’t get why he’s trying to cut our taxes when we’re going to need those funds to invest in Suran. Yes, the Union will go through some hard times, but they will survive and we will make them whole once Suran is in our control and able to generate tax revenue, but they have to be patient. They have to understand that there are bigger things going on than them and the fact that Athyn, my brother of all people, would go behind my back and try to sabotage the work I’ve spent the last twenty-five years on—I can’t help but be hurt. I can’t help but wonder why he would do this? But he’s a good man and I know he’s got his reasons, flawed as they may be, but I can’t figure them out right now and I think that might be a good thing, because I don’t want to get any more frustrated with him than I already am, especially not when I have to leave in an hour’s time if I’m to make it to Suran for our meeting. I just hope he realizes that he’s not helping these miners by giving them false hope that we’ll grant them tax exemption when we need every drake we can muster for what’s about to go down in Suran. He needs to realize that we can’t always be the ‘heroes’ anymore; we have to make the hard choices now and sometimes that means people are going to get hurt, but what we’re doing is for the good of the House as a whole, not a few eggminers, and I won’t let him stand in my way in seeing to it that this is finally finished. 

I am sorry, Athyn, but I can’t let you destroy everything I’ve worked for because you can’t bear the thought of a few people having to make sacrifices for the good of the House just like we always have. I hope you can forgive me and I hope to speak to you soon once I return from my business in Suran, but it doesn’t matter, because this is already in motion and it will come to pass, no matter how much you fight it, be it for personal reasons or because you’re just trying to look out for the little guy, this will happen and you just have to accept it.

_-Miner Arobar, Councilor of House Redoran_


	14. Act I, Part XIV: Vengeance

**Act I, Part XIV: Vengeance**

_By Athyn Sarethi, Brother-in-Law of Miner and Uncle of Nilas and Gandosa_

Master Tuls counsels patience and prayer in these trying times, but my heart burns with a fire I haven’t felt since the War. He tells me I need to step away from the situation and quiet the storm within, but he wasn’t there when Nilas was born—he wasn’t the one changing the diapers and holding the Arobar family together after Dralora died. Master Tuls and I have been friends for many years and I can not state enough how much I have appreciated his counsel since he arrived here in Ald’ruhn, but this is one time that I just can’t take it. I just don’t have the ability to still myself after seeing my nephew like that. I can’t. I just can’t.

I remember watching this boy grow up and being there for him. I remember the first time he came to me and asked me to teach him how to use a sword and I remember how we practiced every day for hours until I would get too tired to keep at it, but he’d always be pushing me to go a little longer, because he wanted to be Redoran—just like his father and me. He wanted nothing more than that and to see him—like this—I can’t. I could barely recognize him when the Watch sent word to me that it was him that they had dragged from beyond the Walls. Looking at him, his lips were cracked from thirst and he had not only lost weight, but his body was covered in bruises and cuts. He’s alive though. I thank ALMSIVI for that small miracle. I simply lack the words to convey my infinite gratitude to them for sparing his life despite what he’s gone through, but I must pray. I must pray for forgiveness for when I find the monsters who did this—they will pray for death and I—I will do things that no man should ever do to another, but whoever did this to my nephew, they will suffer a thousand-fold what he has. I swear it, on my life and on my honor—they will pay for their crimes.

He couldn’t give me much information, but he gave me enough with what little strength he had for conversation.

“Uncle—there were—too many—of them.”

“Too many of what?”

“They—they—captured me—tortured me—did things—to me.”

“Who, Nilas? Who?”

“I—I don’t—know.”

Those were his last words before he lost consciousness again and I have had the healers tending to him on orders to alert me the moment he wakes up, but he hasn’t and right now, that’s okay. He needs his rest and I need to be free to coordinate. I’ve already sent scouts to Marandus to try to see if the Underpriest knows anything and I’ve spoken to General Serano and told him I want his best men on standby for once I have more information about whoever did this. 

To you, whoever did this to my beloved nephew, I pray for you. 

I pray that Death finds you before I do.

I pray that you have time to scurry away long enough to kill yourselves before I get my hands on you.

And most of all, I pray that you have made peace with your gods, for when I find you, you will scream their names in hopes they’ll kill you—just so that it can stop. 

I pray for you, whoever you are, but know that my prayers for your death are the only mercy I will show you and that once I find you—you will learn why so many of Uvirith’s mercenaries killed themselves when they realized capture was imminent. You will learn.

_-Athyn Sarethi, Councilor of House Redoran_


	15. Act I, Part XV: Broken Pedestals

**Act I, Part XV: Broken Pedestals**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar_

When Uncle Athyn told me the news about Nilas, I couldn’t believe it—I wouldn’t believe it—but it was true. Everything he said was true and I don’t know what to even say. I just—don’t have the words. I don’t think I’ve left his side since Uncle Athyn told me and I can’t stop looking at him and wondering if he’ll make it. The Healers tell me they’re doing everything they can, but I just don’t know if it’ll be enough—I mean—he’s just so—so—hurt. I can barely even recognize him underneath all the swelling and bruising, but, I have to hold out hope that he’s going to make it. He has to. He just has to. He’s always been a survivor, even when we were kids, he always managed to get right back up no matter how badly Father beat him, and now—to see him like this—it’s just—it’s hard. It’s really hard. 

He’s mostly been sleeping and I’m glad for that. He needs his rest, but he’s started talking in his sleep and I’ve tried to follow it as much as I can, but it’s never a full conversation, just a few words here and there.

“No, no, not again…”

“Please, just stop…”

“I’m begging…”

But sometimes the words get louder and turn into screams as he jerks violently in his sleep like he’s trying to get away from something, but he just can’t. He’s trying so hard, but he can’t. No matter what Father did to him, he always just—took it. He didn’t try to run, he didn’t try to hide—he just always stood there and let Father beat him until he had cooled off and to see him—struggling—to get away—I just—I can’t imagine what happened at those Trials. I don’t even want to think about it but it’s all I can think about. I’ve never seen him like this, not once in his entire life has he been in crying in his sleep as he’s trying to get away from whatever nightmare he’s having even though he just can’t. He’s trying so, so hard, and it’s just not enough. 

I shouldn’t have let him go.

I never should’ve let him go.

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew he’d get hurt, but I never imagined it’d be like this—I know Volene—she—she came back a lot like this, but—she didn’t go through everything Nilas did to prepare for this. Nilas trained with Uncle Athyn for years preparing for these Trials and everyone in the Watch has sparred with him at one time or another and even the Drillmaster always said that even if his form was a little sloppy, he was still going to make a “damn fine Redoran one day”. I just don’t know how this could’ve happened to him. He trained so hard and so long and—and—he comes back like this. Almalexia, why, why did this have to happen to him? He’s a good man—no—he’s a great man—and he’s here on this bed soaking in sweat and crying in his sleep. Why? Why him? Why couldn’t you protect him? Why couldn’t you watch out for him? Have I not lived up to your teachings? Have I failed you?

Please—just—tell me—tell me why you had to hurt him. Tell me why everyone I love has to—has to—break like this. It’s not fair! IT’S NOT FAIR! Volene wasn’t perfect and though my heart still grieves for her loss, I’ve made peace with it, but Nilas—he was innocent. He was so innocent. He didn’t do anything wrong. All he ever wanted was to make Father proud. It’s all he ever wanted. He just wanted to be loved and now—now he’s broken because of it and it’s not fair! It’s just not fair. 

But—there is no fairness in the world, is there? If there was then Volene would be Redoran instead of caged up in the Sanitarium and Nilas would be standing before the Council with all of us watching him with smiles on our faces and the Union wouldn’t be facing taxation when the Council knows that most of them won’t be able to pay. I used to think there was. I used to think that everything would work out the way it was supposed to and the righteous would be rewarded and the wicked smote, but it seems there is no cosmic justice woven into the tapestry of Fate—only a world where none of it matters. But if that is the world we live in and the Tribunal can not be bothered to protect the innocent, like Volene, like Nilas, or even the Union, then I must accept that they aren’t worthy of my prayers and that the House that would abandon its people in their time of need is not worthy of my loyalty.

Lady Boethiah, I invoke your name and your spirit for guidance, for the institutions of my ancestors have failed not only me, but my people, and I will not stand idly by and watch them suffer any longer. They plea for aid from those who call themselves their protectors and they are brushed aside. The Tribunal speak of caring for the people, but what gods that are truly benevolent would allow someone like my dear brother to go through what he has? To suffer as he is? The Great Houses, the Tribunal, the Temple, all of them—they all speak of how they serve the people of Morrowind, but if they truly did, then there would be some semblance of justice in the world, but I see not one, so Boethiah, I ask again, will you give me guidance? Will you hear my pleas, unlike all the others, and help me do some small bit of good in this world by seeing to it that the Union at least can keep their homes? Grant me that one small mercy, Queen of Shadows, and I will give of myself unto you in this life and the next—I will serve you eternal—just show me the way so that I may spare my people at least this one bit of suffering, even if I should die to do so.

To those of you in the Council who denied the Union forbearance, I hope you know that you have made a mistake and you come to your senses. Too long have my people suffered because of men and women like you who haven’t the faintest of clues what it is they are forced to endure day-in, day-out, and there will come an end to their suffering and it will be you who decides how it comes. I pray peaceful protest is enough to convince you of the error of your ways, but if it is not, know that the Union will prevail in the end. You may kill us, one by one, but for everyone who falls fighting for their beliefs and for their rights, ten will take their place as my people see what it is we’re fighting for and while you have the strength of training and of arms on your side, we have an indomitable spirit that you will never break.

May Boethiah guide me and watch over our cause, for the time for action draws near.

_-Gandosa Arobar, Revolutionary_


	16. Act I, Part XVI: The Broken Prince

**Part XVI: The Broken Prince**

_By Nilas Arobar, Son of Miner Arobar_

Everything hurts. Everything. Every breath, every muscle movement, everything—but I am alive and that—that is the greatest gift of all. Gandosa has come a few times to check on me and she keeps asking about what happened and I wish she wouldn’t. The things that happened out there—they’re things she has no need to hear about. The Trials themselves were harrowing. I barely got through them with my life, but what happened after—when they swarmed me as I was crawling out of the deepest levels—those are the things that I can’t forget. They are the cacoethic thoughts crawling inside my skull like a thousand spiders and no matter how much I try to quiet them—there is no end to them. There is no escape. Just the constant—reminders. Gandosa can tell. She can tell something’s wrong, but she doesn’t know what and she keeps trying to pry and I just want her to stop. Just stop. There are some things she just doesn’t need to hear and what they did to me—those are the things I don’t want anyone to hear. I dare not even write the abuses I suffered because it—it makes them—real. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but—I don’t know how else to phrase it. It just—I can’t. They may skitter inside my head but I will not let them manifest into the real world—I won’t! I refuse!

On a different note, Uncle Athyn has been keeping a watchful vigil over me since I woke up yesterday. He is here before I wake up and here after I fall asleep and he has been—talking—to me, although talking doesn’t really feel like the right word. Interrogating. He’s been very fishing in his questions and I can tell that he, like Gandosa, wants to know exactly what happened, but there’s something different about Uncle Athyn. There’s something behind his eyes I never really saw before. Hurt. He carries a jovial smile and an aura of calm, but for the first time in my life, I see that it’s something of a façade—a mask. He wears it well. So well. But for the first time, I can see past it and I can see the man beneath it—a man who feels just like I do right now and I think has for a very long time. But I just—I just don’t know he does it. How he maintains that façade so well when I’m sitting here in this bed rotating between fits of rage and absolute emotional collapse. He doesn’t get angry or upset at my instability though. He just sits there in silence and listens as I scream out my lust for vengeance and watches as it turns into sobbing.

He finally had the directness to ask me what happened a little bit ago and I tried to speak, but—I froze. I tried to speak, not because I wanted to—but because—it’s different with Uncle Athyn than it is with Gandosa or really anyone else. I can’t explain it, but—when I look at him and peer into his eyes—I see hurt. Maybe not the same kind as what I went through at the place they called Ramimilk, but—he is no stranger to what I’m feeling. To the helplessness. To the horror. To the hatred. ALMSIVI forgive me for my hatred, but it festers in my heart and the heat of it radiates like that of an infected wound. The Temple preaches mercy, but my heart doesn’t have that function right now—there is no capacity for mercy—not for them. Not for them after what they did! I want to kill them! I want to run them through on my spear one by one and I want to hear them beg! I want them to beg for their lives! I WANT TO WATCH THEM SUFFER AS THEY MADE ME SUFFER! But I can’t hurt them. My body is still recovering and it could be weeks before I have the chance to get my vengeance and by then, they could be gone. I just—I just hope I get the chance to find them—especially Evos. 

I want them all to suffer, but Evos Tharen—Evos beg for his master to cut him free of the mortal coil, but the Third Corner won’t be so quick to do that. No. The King of Rape will enjoy watching his little pawn endure as I did! But Evos, you—you fetcher—you are lucky, I’m not an animal like you. I will hurt you. I will break you. But no matter how much I hate you—no matter how much I want you to suffer—I will never do the things that you and your monsters did to me! Never! NEVER!

BUT I WILL KILL YOU!

I WILL KILL YOU ALL!

I SWEAR IT ON MY LIFE AND EVERYTHING I LOVE! I WILL KILL YOU! 


	17. Act I, Part XVII: Operation: Hidden Blade

**Part XVII: Operation: Hidden Blade**

_By Agent Miron Hlaalo, Office of Redoran Intelligence_

I do not know why General Serano requested I be assigned to his taskforce for this mission and I can say without reservation that I’m glad that I don’t know, as after all, the first rule that every agent is taught in my line of work is that information security is paramount. All information has power and the kind of information that we deal with is the kind that should be restricted to a need-to-know basis and why the General asked for me is not something I need to know, it’s just something that I need to comply with. Still though, I am a touch perplexed as to why he asked for someone with my skillset to be attached to a military operation, and more so why he asked for me specifically, but, like I said—these kinds of things are need-to-know and I’m not in the group of people with a need-to-know.

On another note though, I did get the opportunity to meet with the team I’ll be attached to during this operation and I can say that I’m impressed; they’re not the slavering idiots I’ve come to expect most soldiers to be, they actually are quite articulate, well-spoken, and they each carry an air of professionalism that gives me confidence that I might just make it back after all of this. I’m not putting too much stock in that though—not yet. Not until I’ve seen these men in combat. They might just be parade soldiers and while I would like to have confidence in the General’s judgment and good sense, my faith in soldiers is roughly on par with my faith in the Tribunal—non-existent. Still though, I wish I would’ve had the opportunity to go over their service jackets before meeting them, but I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point—I’m here and we’re leaving tonight at dusk.

I did get a chance to meet Councilor Sarethi who said he would be joining us to oversee this operation personally and I must admit that I feel a bit disappointed to know that this is the Athyn Sarethi who so many enemies of the House have feared over the years, but I suppose it is plausible that in his old age he has lost his touch. But still, I can’t help but wonder how much his legend differs from reality. He seems to be a disheveled old politician, who, for whatever reason, wants to try to relive his glory days even though they’re long behind him. I just don’t know why and unlike why Serano picked me—this is something I need to know. I need to know why someone in his position would personally oversee a military operation that hasn’t been officially sanctioned. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this makes sense and when I look at him, I wonder what he’s hiding from the rest of us. I’m no field agent, but I’m not some slavering soldier either; I can tell when something’s not right and no other Councilor would be caught anywhere near something like this—there’s too much risk. This is the kind of thing that gets people brought before the Council and facing execution, or even exile. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Nothing about this makes sense and though I find myself unimpressed by him, I in no way doubt that he is a threat—I just don’t know in what way yet, but I’ll be watching him. 

Closely.

I will also be burning all of my entries, including this one. I wouldn’t even be writing them, but I need some way of composing my thoughts and this will have to suffice for the time being. 

_-Agent Miron Hlaalo, Office of Redoran Intelligence_


	18. Act I, Part XVIII: The Seeds of Revolution

**Act I, Part XVIII: The Seeds of Revolution**

_By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar_

The tax season is getting closer and the tension grows more and more palpable with each passing day as talks of outright striking of all things are becoming more than just hushed discussions behind closed doors, but earnest debates within the Union Hall and I find myself more and more worried about the coming weeks. The air is alive with the winds of change and I see the hope I give them when I give my speeches, but I can’t help but feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach as I think about what will come. So much death. So much bloodshed. The streets of Ald’ruhn will be stained red forever when we take this city from the Council, but what choice do we have anymore? The Council has forgotten its obligations to its people, but they certainly haven’t forgotten that it is their people who give them power. It is their people who allow them to govern. And it is ultimately their people, the true patriots of the House like these miners, who will remind them of that. 

Still though, there is worry in my heart that I am leading these men and women down the wrong path. I look at them and these are good, honest people who have spent their entire lives trying to be just that and now their leaders are turning their back on them. They are being left to rot in their time of need and because they choose to try to keep the things they’ve spent their whole lives working towards, so many of them are going to die. So many of them will leave their homes for the last time, not really knowing it’s the last time, and why? Because they have to. Because they don’t have a choice and I hate that. I hate every bit of the situation that my people have been forced to and I hate that I have to choose between my family and my people, but a Redoran’s life is sacrifice and these men and women—they’re true Redorans, more than any fetcher on that Council besides my uncle could ever hope to be. 

But I have to be strong, even in these grim times, because I am all these people have. Who else has heard their cries as I have? Who else is willing to sacrifice everything to lead them? Who else? I just find myself hoping with every fiber of my being that I’m good enough. I hope that when we begin our fight to take this city that Boethiah will smile upon us. I hope a lot of things. I really do, but I guess most of all, I hope that things end up alright. 

Boethiah, please hear my prayer and watch over my people in the coming months. They are already being tested and they are showing they have true grit, but they, a few hundred egg miners, can not take on the full might of the Redoran Army alone. I beg of you, aid us in the coming conflict and you will not be forgotten as you have been by so many. 

I swear to you, Prince of Plots, deliver us from the bondage we suffer at the hands of the Council and we will serve you in this life and the next. It is all I ask. Just provide us with the insight we need to take this city from the Council and we will be indebted to you eternally, I swear it.

_-Gandosa Arobar, Revolutionary_


	19. Act I, Part XIX: Mazira's Discount Sujamma

**Act I, Part XIX: Mazira’s Discount Sujamma**

_By Nilas Arobar, Son of Miner Arobar_

I can’t look in the mirror anymore, because I don’t like what looks back at me. I’m not the man I was when I left—not even close. That man, the ‘hero’ as he liked to think of himself, he’s dead. He’s dead and gone and he’s never coming back. Nope. He’s gone—gone—GONE! But nobody gets it. Everybody thinks he’s still here and they still look at me like that’s still who I am, but it’s not. I’m anything but some hero now. A hero doesn’t—doesn’t—doesn’t go through what I did when they jumped me after the Trials. A hero doesn’t—go through that kind of thing—but they don’t get that. They don’t know. None of them know. They just think I went off, went through the Trials, and now I’m back and I’m supposed to be some big damn hero who is gonna be just like his father. 

To Hell with that and to Hell with him too!

You want a goddamned hero, look at Gandosa, she’s a damn hero! I haven’t seen her since I woke up, but I know she’s out there doing what she always has. She’s probably feeding the poor or delivering medicine to the sick, you know, the kinds of things a good person does. I thought I had to do all the right things and be a certain way and be just like my father to be a good person, but you know what that got me? You really know? It got me taken by those—those—monsters. I swear to ALMSIVI, I’ll kill them all! I WILL! I WILL LAUGH UNTIL I CRY WHEN I STAND OVER THEIR BROKEN BODIES KNOWING THAT I GOT EVEN! THAT I MADE THEM HURT AS MUCH AS THEY MADE ME HURT! But—but that won’t be enough. No, no, there’s amount of pain I can cause them with just a sword or a spear to hurt them how they hurt me. But I wish I could. I wish more than anything that I could. They deserve to suffer. They deserve to suffer in ways I can’t bring myself to inflict, but—it doesn’t matter. I’m not going back there anyways. I just—I can’t. I’m scared. I want to, but I can’t.

It doesn’t matter though.

None of it matters, but you know what? I can make the pain go away. I’ve found that there’s nothing quite like the burn of Mazira’s. One mouthful numbs the pain, two makes everything feel okay, and three? Three makes the world go away and by AlMSIVI do I love that feeling of just making it all go away. They won’t let me drink at the Council Club, but those fetchers just won’t leave me alone. “Oh Nilas, Oh Nilas, you shouldn’t drink so much! What would your father say?” To Hell with my father and to Hell with those fetchers who think they get to tell me I’m drinking too much! They don’t know what I’ve been through! They see me having a couple drinks and they think they have the right to tell me what to do? Look! When you’ve seen the things I have—when you’ve been through the things I have, then you can scold me like I’m some child! And I might make my father look bad? Oh, I might make the man who beat me senseless my whole life look bad?! Oh ALMSIVI forbid I bring shame upon the great Miner Arobar’s name! How dare I! It’s not like he ever shamed me, no, no, the great Hero of Redoran could never do any wrong! The very thought—it’s just—laughable!

But you know what? It’s okay. My father used to always to avoid the Rat in the Pot; he used to always tell me the people there were Western Filth, but they don’t care if I want to drink. They don’t look like I’m some goddamned hero. No, they just pour it when I tell them to pour it, goddamnit! They don’t care who I am and ALMSIVI knows I’d give anything to be invisible right now. To be a nobody, but I don’t get that choice—nope—I’m an Arobar. Everybody’s known me since I popped out and I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d never been born. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. I just want it to stop. I want to stop seeing their faces. I want to stop going back to it every time I close my eyes, but I can’t—I just can’t—and you know what makes it worse? Everyone looks at me like I’m some hero. Like I’m so brave and heroic for what I went through, but they don’t know—they don’t know anything. I had a Sergeant salute me last night as he crossed my path and he said to me, “I know you haven’t pinned yet, Sir, but I want you to know that everyone in the 61st is hoping you get assigned to us. It’d be an honor to have you leading us, Sir.”

How the Hell do you even respond to that? I’ve never even met this man, he’s even a bit older than me, but he looks at me like I’m some great warrior because I went through the Trials. Let me tell you about those goddamned trials: I nearly died a hundred times going through them, but you know what? Anybody could’ve made it. I did and I’m nothing. I’m less than guar dung and I made it, but we act like it’s some big deal to go through the Trials. You know what the big deal is? You really want to know? It’s a way of deciding who gets to be a somebody and who is stuck a nobody; it’s why my father was so upset that my uncle decided to sponsor me for them. Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter at all. I was supposed to go to my Initiation Ceremony earlier today, but you know what? I just don’t care anymore. You know what though? You know what does matter? That Lirielle keeps the sujamma pouring. God, I love this stuff and hey—I think this glass number three. 

Yippee.

_-Nilas Arobar, the Broken Prince_


	20. Act I, Part XX: The Massacre of Ramimilk

**Part XX: The Massacre of Ramimilk**

_By Agent Miron Hlaalo, Office of Redoran Intelligence_

I have been witness to many things in my service to the Office of Redoran Intelligence and some of them have been things that sicken to my core, but what has happened tonight is far worse than anything I’ve ever seen. The Cultists knew they were being hunted like animals, but they didn’t know that they weren’t going to die a quick death—no—they thought they’d fight and quickly be cut free of the Mortal Coil, but that’s not how it’s gone for any of them. The Councilor has seen to that and as I look at the mess of severed fingers, ripped out teeth, and gouged out eyes, I find myself struggling to maintain composure. I’m aware of the violence done on behalf of the House, but to see it—so close—so real—that’s different. The Councilor he just—he—I don’t even know how to put it into words, but I can’t look him in the eye anymore. I’m scared. Terrified even.

He interrogated them one by one and when he thought he had taken them the way, he slit their throats and kicked them into the ash and moved right on to the next one and started again. To think that men and women like these ones—cultists of all things—could be so afraid; it’s just hard to comprehend. I would watch them get more and more nervous as he’d get closer to them in the line and they would beg, and beg, and beg, and he didn’t care. Those who kept begging instead of giving useful information—well—there’s a reason there are so many body parts strewn about. I just—I can’t believe that the rumors weren’t only true—they underplayed the sheer brutality of the Councilor. I don’t dare to say the worst things he did to them to get them to talk, but his ability to induce pain—it far surpasses anything I thought possible.

The cruelest aspect about his methods were that he would ask their name before he began and he would ask them to tell him about themselves. I asked him about it afterwards and he said, “It brings them to this moment—it makes sure they’re not disassociating.” For the most part, he didn’t even seem to care about what they said unless he thought he could use it to hurt them more and he did that with some of them. As he ripped out one woman’s tooth with a pair of pliers, he asked her about her long lost lover who used to say she had the prettiest smile and if he’d still think that. But something when he reached this one cultist in particular. A Dunmer Male, roughly eighty years old by my guess, dressed better than the rest of them, and when asked his name, he said: “Evos Tharen”.

Something changed in the Councilor when he heard that name and he gave the order to kill the rest of the Cultists and dismissed the Team after, emphasizing that they vacate with haste so that he could finish his work in privacy. For some reason though, he didn’t send me away. He just had me keep recording the conversation and this one went differently than the others.

**Councilor Sarethi:** “Your name is Evos Tharen?”

**Evos Tharen:** “No reason to lie to y’; you’ve got me at a bit of a disadvantage so if we could just hurry this along.”

**Councilor Sarethi:** “Do you remember a young man, about twenty-four, Dunmer, was in Marandus when you and your ilk attacked it?”

**Evos Tharen:** (Laughing) “The boy? Ah, yes, how could I forget—he had the tightest little ass I’d ever had.”

The Councilor picked up his knife and started cleaning the blood off of it, nodding at Evos before he spoke again. 

**Councilor Sarethi:** “Why did you attack Marandus, Tharen?”

**Evos Tharen:** (Laughing) “Ha! Why? Because I wanted to—that’s why!”

And the Councilor nodded again, still wiping the blood off his knife.

**Councilor Sarethi:** “I am asking you politely. Please tell me why you attacked Marandus and I will give you a quick death.”

And just as Evos Tharen started to laugh, the Councilor grabbed the back of his head and shoved his index finger into one eye and his middle finger into the other. The screaming was loud. The blood gushed. I had watched the Councilor all night long as he had tortured these cultists one by one trying to suck out any useful information, but this was not something his interrogation with—no. He saved the eye gouging for the most rebellious and yet here he had started with it, but the Councilor seemed completely unfazed, bored even, despite the pained screams of this man that echoed through the Ashlands.

**Councilor Sarethi:** “I am going to ask you again: why did you attack Marandus?”

**Evos Tharen:** “To hell with you, you son of a Nix, you motherless kwama-scum monster, I’ll kill you! I swear to Molag Bal, I will rape your skull, you fetcher!”

Councilor Sarethi just nodded to the freshly-blinded man as he thought of what to say next. It took him a moment.

**Councilor Sarethi:** “Why did you attack Marandus?”

The Cultist let off another stream of obscenities and then Sarethi grabbed that knife and plunged it into the cultist’s right thigh and twisted. The Councilor wasted no time in asking his next question either. 

**Councilor Sarethi:** (Raised Voice) “Why?”

**Evos Tharen:** (Screaming) “BECAUSE OF THE REDORAN WHO CAME! HE TOLD US TO! HE PAID US!”

**Councilor Sarethi:** “Who?”

As the Councilor asked that question, he twisted the knife a bit more.

**Evos Tharen** (Screaming) “AROBAR! THE COUNCILOR! HE TOLD US WE KILL THE KID OR DIE! WE DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!”

I don’t dare repeat what was said after or go into much detail about the series of events that followed, but Councilor Sarethi couldn’t believe it at first and he took—body parts—because he thought that Evos was lying, but in the end, as the Councilor took away his _favorite_ body part, he held true to his claim, and when he did, the Councilor slit his belly open and kicked him face-first into the Ash. 

I still can’t believe the things I’ve seen or heard tonight, but I don’t have a choice. The Councilor explained to me that this is why he brought me here, because he needed someone in the Office of Redoran Intelligence to be able to testify to the truth of his claim when he brings up Councilor Arobar’s crimes against not only the House, but also his own son. I still can’t really process all of this and Councilor Sarethi has warned me that if I speak a word of what happened here tonight to anybody, even my superiors in the Office, then what he did to Evos—that will seem like child’s play.

I just don’t know what to say or think—I just—I’m speechless. And terrified. And I very much can not wait to go home and can not wait for Councilor Sarethi to shed light on Councilor Arobar’s betrayal, because once that’s done—I’m submitting my request for resignation and I’m moving somewhere far away. Maybe Hla Oad, maybe Khuul, maybe Gnaar Mok, but somewhere far, far away. Yeah, somewhere far away.

_-Miron Hlaalo_


	21. Act I, Part XXI: A Meeting with a God

Act I, Part XXI: A Meeting with a God

By Gandosa Arobar, Daughter of Miner Arobar

Ald’ruhn has always been a place with a lot of people coming and going, so many so that nobody really notices when someone not born here comes or goes—it’s just that there are so many people moving about that it’d really be impossible to keep track, but there was a man who caught my attention a few days ago. Normally I don’t much notice the outsiders, but this one I did. He carried himself with a dignified grace—a sense of purpose—but yet he seemed invisible to everyone around him as if he was a phantom. 

At first I thought nothing of this ‘phantom’ as he were until I returned my quarters within the Union Hall and found him there waiting for me. He was tall with penetrating red eyes and a voice that flowed like honey, not like the rasp of most Dunmeri men from Morrowind. I wanted to call someone, but I couldn’t. I went to scream and no noise came out. I tried to open the door and it would not budge. I tried to slam on it, and it was silent. He had an amused smirk as all of this transpired and even laughed at me. “Dearest darling, I only wish to take a few moments of your time—after all—you did ask for it. Actually, if I recall correctly, you swore your fealty in this life and the next.”

I stiffened at those words and I could tell he could see the look of horror wash over my face.

His smirk widened as I stood there silently for what felt like an eternity. 

“I—”

He stood there for a moment, his smirk turning into a scowl briefly before recessing into a frown as he spoke. “What, Child? You prayed to me because you knew that unlike those dogs that have taken m—our place in the eyes of your people, I would answer. Did you not want me to answer?”

“I—”

“I have watched how you serve the people so diligently, so faithfully, and I must say, I admire your commitment because this is the natural end of that commitment, don’t you think? This is what happens when good people obey: They get left to rot and it takes a person like you who is willing to do  anything  to save them to restore the natural order.”

“You’re right—you’re absolutely right, Lord Boethiah.”

“Of course I am, Darling, and that’s why I’ve come to offer you the key to your people’s salvation.”

“What—what is it, Lord Boethiah?”

“A pendant and guidance to a place forever marred by a tragedy that can never be forgotten, no matter how much they may wish to erase it from history.”

“Where is this place and what are you even talking about? What tragedy?”

“I speak of a place called Kogoruhn. Long lost is it to most, but I can feel your soul being called to it. The Great Houses existed before the Battle of Kogoruhn, and if the people of Kogoruhn had just been complacent, they would have lived full, somewhat happy lives. It truly is a tragedy though how Hlaalu, Redoran, Telvanni, Indoril, and Dres stood united in their massacre of these people for daring to speak out against them and the Great House system. It’s—a pity, really.”

“What do you mean they spoke out against it?”

He shook his head and stared at the ground for a moment, before finally speaking, “They were people just like the Egg Miners who believed that there could be a future where everybody was equal—where there would be no division between the Aristocracy of the Great Houses and the lowborn, and they were killed for that. Each and every one of them was murdered in cold blood for believing in a future where everyone could be equal. For fighting for the exact same future you’re fighting for right now.”

“I—I—"

“Be calm, Darling. I made the mistake of abandoning them once, but you, you are my redemption and you will be the Avenger of Kogoruhn. You will realize their dream of a world where all are held equal under the Law and there is no division between Redoran and Lowborn or any other house and commoner, just people, and that is why I am here.”

“Because—”

“Because your heart beats for justice. Your entire life you have fought injustices at every turn within your sphere of influence and now I ask of you, will you be my champion and destroy the greatest injustice of all: The Injustice of Inequality?”

“I—I—”

“We will see, Gandosa. Tell no one of what it is you are to do, for if anyone finds out, they’ll kill you. This is your moment, the one I know you’ve been waiting for your whole life, and I know you won’t fail me as I did those people all those years ago.”

I stood there in a stunned silence as he got up and walked towards me, fading with every step until he was gone entirely before he reached me and I didn’t know what to say or do or really think. I still don’t. I’m sitting here thinking it over and all make sense! The Houses would never allow someone to threaten their authority and if I lead these people to war with the House as it stands, they’ll die, but I know Boethiah wouldn’t lead me astray—I know that Kogoruhn will have the answers I seek! It has to! It just has to! 

And when I do come back from Kogoruhn, we will march on the Council and we will seize this city, and the next, and the next, until all of the Great Houses have been left in ruin just as they did to these people. There will be justice for Kogoruhn! There will be justice!

-Gandosa Arobar, Avenger of Kogoruhn


End file.
